Judith
by meadie
Summary: Ciel is given an assignment from Queen Victoria to investigate a series of bizarre murders plaguing London. Along with Sebastian and his posse of misfits, the young Earl Phantomhive seeks to unveil the mastermind behind these crimes. Kuroshitsuji is the property of the lovely Yana Toboso, to whom all rights to the franchise belong.
1. Chapter 1

**Judith, Chapter One**

The young Earl Phantomhive sat leaning in a plush wing-backed chair, elbow on the scrolled armrest and chin in his hand, staring out of the warped windows of his office at nothing in particular. His attention was drawn to the youthful blonde haired gardener, Finnian, who was in a panic as he scrambled about the large maple tree that he had torn up by the roots. Beside him stood a young man in a tailcoat, silver hair shifting in the breeze and a large snake coiled loosely around his neck. The boy's face, lightly scattered with gleaming reptilian scales, was plastered with complete indifference to Finnian's tears and frantic wailing. The manicured garden was obscured by the ominous presence of billowing black smoke, undoubtedly belching from the kitchen windows, which had likely been thrown open when one of chef Bardroy's culinary experiments had come to some sort of fiery, catastrophic end. The young lord rolled his eyes.

"Damn them. With these idiots running around, it's a wonder I still have a mansion at all."

"Ciel?" An obnoxiously cheerful voice chirped his name, moving his gaze away from the window and to the finely dressed girl sitting across from him. "It's your move!" she sang, donning a smile and tilting her head, large blonde curls bouncing around her neck and face.

His eyes fell to the elegant chessboard sitting on the small table between them. The board had been essentially stripped of the girl's black pieces, leaving the squares populated largely with his own pieces, carved elegantly from Indian ivory.

"I must give her credit for being persistent," he mumbled lowly. Clearing his throat he spoke, "Elizabeth, this is the twelfth game we have played; don't you find this to be becoming quite tiresome? Shall I call Sebastian for tea?"

Her retaliation was silenced by a prompt knock on the door. The door swung open and an elegant man in a black tailcoat came sweeping gracefully into the mahogany room. "You called, bocchan? Would the lady like some tea?" He turned to the girl and flashed an effortlessly forced smile, every word sliding smoothly between his lips like honey. He stood awaiting instruction from his master, his tall, lean frame silently occupying the open space of the doorway. After receiving an order for tea and cakes, he placed a gloved hand over his heart and gave a shallow bow before excusing himself to fulfill his master's wishes.

Striding silently down the carpeted hallway, he glanced out the tall windows to his right, attempting to make a prompt assessment of the various calamities that had befallen the manor so far that day. Releasing an exasperated sigh, Sebastian clicked open a silver pocket watch, its chain swaying like a metronome with each long step.

"All of this foolishness and it is only two o'clock," the demon butler huffed in an aggravated mumble. "The young master is lucky that I am what I am, otherwise this mansion would be in shambles and there would be no none capable of satisfying all of his petty demands. He can be truly childish at times."

Leaning his shoulder into the swinging kitchen door, he froze as a subtle sound caught his sensitive ears. A clink of dishes, nearly imperceptible to anyone else, alerted him to an impending calamity at the hands of the maid, who was wobbling down the hall with a tall, overly ambitious stack of plates. Sebastian knew, despite her face being concealed by the teetering tower, that her eyebrows were knitted tightly in concentration and her face was scrunched in an attempt to keep her large glasses from sliding down the bridge of her nose. He waited silently for her inevitable stumble, her scuffling feet catching the only small bump in the rug. Moving effortlessly, a strong arm looped around her waist, the other catching the deluge of tumbling china on the tips of lithe fingers. Yelping, the auburn-haired girl looked up at the suave butler and, realizing that her fingers were latched to the front of his tailcoat, pulled away as a violent surge of color rose on her cheeks.

She nervously wrung her hands, attempting to look at anything but her savior. "Mister Sebastian, I'm so sorry, I am!" Her voice was shrill and dripping with embarrassment. "You see, well, we… Bardo, Finny, and me thought we might do somethin' fancy for the young master, we did. So I went to get some of the pretty china and Bardo said he'd fix up a nice supper for the young master and Lady Elizabeth."

Sebastian sighed and shook his head lightly, silken ebony hair falling in front of his face. Composing himself, he turned back to the trembling girl before him, who was now twisting her white apron in anticipation of the oncoming reprimand. "Mey-Rin," he began, "I'm sure that the young master will appreciate the gesture, but I believe that he would be even more pleased if his manor was still intact by the end of the day. Don't you agree?"

Though he was smiling, the girl could sense looming, genuine murderous intent as he towered over her. Opting to refrain from continuing to dig her own grave, Mey-Rin remained silent, her only response being an extremely vigorous nod. Tilting his head slightly and maintaining his ominous grin, Sebastian turned away, pushing through the door into the kitchen and attempting to return to his work. He did his best to ignore the chef, Bardroy, who was fanning wildly at the oven, cigarette clenched in his teeth and blond hair turned black from the explosion. Placing the dishes in a place where they would be out of harm's way, he began a kettle of boiling water before arranging an elegant display of petit-fours in pastel blues, greens, and pinks. Assessing his work, he removed the hissing kettle before adding a few of the master's favorite chocolate truffles to the platter for good measure. As the butler stood before a cabinet filled with numerous tin boxes filled with aromatic tea leaves, he was jolted by a piercing scream echoing through the manor.

Sebastian quickly abandoned his task and sprinted through the halls before bursting into the Earl's mahogany clad study. He found Ciel and Elizabeth staring at the large window overlooking the grounds, their attention drawn by a blonde man, dressed in elegant white, happily tapping on the glass and waving a wax sealed letter.

"H-how?!" Elizabeth interrogated, her gaze shifting between her fiancé, the butler in black, and the strange character perched outside the window. "This is the second floor!"

Upon recognizing who the figure was, Sebastian and his master released heavy, irritated sighs. "Not to worry Elizabeth, Charles is simply a messenger from the Queen. He and his comrade must have come to deliver orders from Her Majesty, as well as to cause a commotion in my household," the young lord huffed angrily. "Sebastian, go fetch that fool and ready our tea."

"Of course, bocchan," he replied, once again bowing slightly. "Young master, would you and the young lady prefer to take your tea in the garden or in the drawing room?"

Ciel glanced once more through the warped panes of the window; black smoke was still swirling among the number of fallen trees, unfortunate casualties of Finnian's unnatural strength. He whipped an incredulous glare towards the butler, who nodded in understanding. "The drawing room it is, sir," a smirk teasing the corners of his mouth as he bowed and took his leave.

Ciel sat, bored, in a large chair across from his blonde-haired fiancée, who was chattering wildly about the upcoming social season, when the aristocracy would all converge on London in order to attend parties and pretend to enjoy each other's company. She was rambling about which gatherings he should attend and to whom he should send his regards. Though the girl knew that he despised the majority of social interactions, and especially hated pretending to be fond of people whom he felt were nuisances, that did not stop her from plotting his itinerary for the season. Elizabeth's inconsequential prattling was conveniently cut off by a knock on the door as Sebastian entered with a silver platter of tea and petit-fours, and accompanied by the wax sealed letter. HHHhm mHe handed the letter to his young master and set the tray on a small table, before placing the small cakes on fine plates and pouring the tea.

"This afternoon's blend is a Hsinchu oolong from northwestern Taiwan, served with a touch of honey," Sebastian said smoothly, placing the saucers on the table with scarcely a sound. Ciel began sipping his tea indifferently as he opened the letter and began to read, easily ignoring Elizabeth's resumption of her pointless rambling.

_29 April_

_My darling boy,_

_I trust that you have been doing well, and are readying yourself __for the upcoming social season. I believe that this will be a fine __summer, and I hope to hear from you when you come to London. __But now for the true purpose of this letter. There has been a string __of gruesome murders taking place here in the capital, and I find t__hese to be most unsettling and bizarre. The victims do not appear __to have any connection other than their appearances. All of the men __were young, in their middle twenties, had handsome features, blonde __hair and blue eyes. Their bodies were found decapitated, their __heads later discovered in woven baskets that were placed on the __altars of nearby churches. I implore you, my darling boy, to discover t__he culprit behind these horrifying tragedies, so that I no longer __have to fret over the safety of my people. _

_God speed,_

_ Victoria_

The young Earl sighed, carefully folding the letter and placing it inside of his navy coat before turning to his butler. "Prepare the carriage, we will be departing for London this evening. We have been given a new assignment by Her Majesty." Sebastian nodded, placing a gloved hand over his heart and excused himself from the room. "And Sebastian," Ciel said as the tall man in black was halfway through the door, "tell the servants that if they hurry to clean up their messes before five o'clock, they may accompany us to the city house. I believe that there is a May Day festival on the day after next."

The elegant butler smirked. "How generous of you, sir," he stated before bowing and turning, once again, to leave.


	2. Chapter 2

**Judith, Chapter Two**

Ciel straightened his navy velvet overcoat before taking his hat and elegant cane from his patiently waiting butler. He pivoted on his heel, turning to glare boldly at his servants, who were attempting and ultimately failing to restrain their excitement. The young lord's aura seemed to darken as he began to speak.

"Finnian, Mey-Rin, Bardroy, Snake," he pronounced each name with deliberate emphasis, "I am allowing you to accompany me on business to London. There will be a May Day festival the day after next, and if you all behave, I will permit you to attend. However," he paused, drawing an exasperated breath, "you must all be on your best behavior. Am I understood?"

"Yes sir!" they all stated loudly, hardly able to contain their irksome fidgets. "Says Wilde," Snake added dully. Tanaka released a single "Ho!" before returning to happily sipping his tea. Finny tugged Bardo's shirt excitedly, quickly recovering from his dejection after being shooed away, only to assault Mey-Rin with his childish eagerness instead.

"Well then," the Earl stated, "we'll be off." Stepping lightly into his waiting coach, he could feel is irritation throbbing in his temple as he attempted to ignore the incessant chatter wafting up from the small carriage behind him. Ciel settled himself into his seat, muttering, scolding himself for his own idiocy and mentally preparing himself for the inevitable impending catastrophe. He scarcely noticed when his elegant butler sat across from him, placing gloved hands lightly on his lap as he scarcely attempted to conceal an amused expression. Sebastian's light chuckle aroused the young lord from his apocalyptic delusions, and Ciel sent a boiling glare from a single blue eye as he silently confronted his butler. The exchange only served to entertain the dark butler further, his smirk growing broader with each of his master's flustered twitches.

"Why are you laughing, Sebastian?" His voice was stern, each word so laced with malice that he could taste the bitterness on his tongue.

"No reason at all, bocchan. Though I do recall you giving permission for them to come along," Sebastian teased. "You cannot fault their enthusiasm."

Ciel scoffed, turning his cheek to the smirking man before him. "Demon bastard," he spat viciously, "damn you to hell."

"Now, now, young master," he began, no longer able to restrain his amusement, "you and I both know that it's a bit late for that."

The pair refrained from speaking for several minutes, the young lord wallowing in stubborn muteness as the clattering of carriage axles and horseshoes sought to fill the void left by their stillness. "I presume you know the details of this assignment," Ciel finally said, the tense strings of silence gratefully snapping.

"Indeed, bocchan."

"I expect we will need to pay a visit to Undertaker, despite how unpleasant the task will be," he shuddered lightly. "He has information that we need."

"Yes, my young lord. I also believe you have a reason for bringing the servants along. Am I mistaken?" Yet another sly grin toyed at the corners of his pale lips as he sat smugly awaiting his master's inevitable response.

"You know the answer to that ridiculous question. I don't tote those fools around because it's fun. You read the letter, it's apparent that this killer prefers to target men with specific physical characteristics: middle twenties, blond hair, blue eyes. I happen to have such a resource at my disposal, so naturally, I will use it to my advantage."

Sebastian chuckled again. "How very cruel, bocchan. Yet the Queen's guard dog remains resourceful and diligent, as always."

Bardroy sighed, the smoking cigarette clenched between his teeth leaving a ghostly trail behind them, the faint cloud dissipating into the atmosphere as if it had never existed in the first place. Finny and Mey-Rin's incessant rambling had begun to fade, much to the appreciation of the blond haired chef, though Tanaka continued to sit, smiling with absent ignorance, as if listening to the pointless chatter.

"It was mighty kind of the young master to take us to the festival! I've never been to one but I know it will be great!"

Bardroy tried to pitch a comment concerning Finny's ignorance into the conversation, but surrendered when Mey-Rin replied to the gardener with equally irritating excitement. "The young master is very kind, he is. We make lots of trouble for him and Mister Sebastian, but Mister Sebastian is the only one who ever yells at us." Tanaka asserted an enthusiastic "Ho!" in agreement.

"He don't even have to yell," Bard shivered lightly, his voice dropping in fearful recollection. "He just gives that look, ya know? The one that makes yer body ice over like a shallow pond. Gives me the creeps."

"Me too…. says Emily," Snake flatly interjected before popping the reins, asking the horses to pick up their pace. Finny and Mey-Rin nodded wildly, cowering closer together, seeking protection from the memory of Sebastian's imposing glare. It only took a moment before Finny erupted back into his gleeful chatter.

"He's still nice to us, though! He has gotten us out of lotsa trouble," the young blond chirped happily. "And Mister Sebastian and the young master gave us a good home, and I can be outside every day!" He gave a broad smile and flailed his arms as if trying to physically prove his contentment through violently enthusiastic hand gestures. Bard smiled gently at the boy across from him, his dwindling cigarette still held loosely between his lips. He, just like his companions, was perfectly satisfied with the life he had adopted after being taken into the Phantomhive household; and because of this, he knew that each of the five helps would gladly sacrifice anything to protect the young lord that had given them refuge from the people that they had once been. They had been washed clean from their tales of woe, baptized anew by their master's kindness. And though the Earl would never condescend to outwardly express this compassion for the sake of maintaining his frigid countenance and fearsome reputation, the servants had come to accept that he would never acknowledge their appreciation, yet they knew that he felt it.

Ignorant of the passage of time, they were surprised when the carriages arrived at the front gate of the Phantomhive London manner, its windows already glowing with welcoming yellow light. The five had scarcely noticed that the blazing afternoon sun had begun to tuck itself silently into the horizon, pulling darkness slowly across the sky like a heavy blanket. They greeted the young master as he stepped proudly down from his coach as they toted their seemingly endless luggage into the manor, dispersing the trunks among the appropriate rooms. Everyone froze and stared as an accented voice shouted Ciel's name, stretching the vowels to a ridiculous length, as a dark skinned blur latched itself aggressively to the young master.

The Earl gritted his teeth, attempting and ultimately failing to force the enthusiastic character from his small frame. "Soma you fool, get off of me, dammit! Dear God Sebastian, stop smirking and remove this moronic leech!"

The elegant butler scarcely attempted to suppress a chuckle as he responded with a condescending smile. "Certainly, bocchan," he said, amused, before lifting the dark-skinned boy by the collar of his tunic and dropping him unceremoniously on the marble-tiled floor. Sebastian dusted his hands of the nuisance as he straightened his tailcoat and vest, removing a silver pocket watch from his breast and checking the time. "Oh dear, it appears that dinner will be a bit tardy, young master."

Ciel's bitter retort was silenced by the dramatic entrance of another dark skinned figure, white hair bound in a turban and right hand wrapped carefully in strips of linen. "Prince!" he shouted in his heavily accented voice, completely disregarding the master of the house and his butler until after frantically ensuring that his own master was unharmed. "Ah, Mister Sebastian, young lord Ciel, I have already prepared you a splendid dinner of korma, a signature dish fragrant with the spices of India."

The butler in black felt the veins in his temple throbbing with irritation. "Have you, now? How very kind, Agni. Yet, unfortunately my young master is not fond of such cuisine." He tilted his head slightly and flashed a radiant smile, one which could nearly be taken as genuine. "Though I'm sure the Earl is grateful for the effort, I will promptly go prepare something that is more…" he paused before completing the sentence with malicious emphasis, "_suitable_ to the young lord's tastes."

A small gloved hand quickly silenced the tall man. "Sebastian, this will have to do. I am hungry now and do not wish to wait for you."

"Bocchan, if I could not quickly prepare a meal to my master's liking, what kind of butler would I…" His retort was silenced yet again, his lord turning to give him a stern glare.

"I do believe I said that I do not wish to wait."

"Of course, sir," Sebastian bowed, agitated, perpetually glaring at Agni as he removed Ciel's outer clothes and placed them neatly in a nearby closet. Giving another shallow bow, he gestured broadly in the direction of the dining room as he moved to open the heavy oak doors for both Soma and his own master before disappearing silently to retrieve a suitable bottle of wine. Ciel took several steps into the room before pausing to stare at the table, which had already been laid for the meal.

His eyes narrowed, brimming with rage, before he scoffed and shouted in an exasperated voice. "Lao! Why in the hell are you in my house?! Who told you that you could be here?!"

The slender Asian turned in his chair, where he had been patiently awaiting the serving of dinner, to face the fuming boy, his busty companion lounging across his lap. Lao smiled broadly, "Ah, my lord! I'm so glad you have arrived! Ran Mao and I were prepared to begin dinner without you, weren't we Ran Mao?" The woman nodded silently, the vacant expression never leaving her face as the man smiled and ran his hand over the scant Oriental silk which covered her thigh. As Sebastian returned and ushered the young lord to his seat at the head of the table, Ciel scoffed at the Asians' presumptuous vulgarity.

"This is my dining room, not a damned brothel," he muttered under his breath, settling into his chair and placing an elegantly folded napkin on his lap. "I hope you have a good reason for being here, Lao," he said, confronting the man, the frustration never waning from his voice.

"Hmm?" he replied, tilting his head as a puzzled expression painted itself across his refined features. "Ah, yes! It is relevant to your work, young lord," he grinned slyly, an enigmatic glint reflecting in his narrow brown eyes. Ciel responded with a wary glare, choosing to abandon the topic for the time being.

Glancing between the silk-clad man and his young benefactor, Soma abandoned the silence that had seeped into the room like a gas, and began to speak about any number of random topics that held no interest to any party but his own. Irritated by his lack of attention, he began berating Ciel with pointless questions, nagging like a spoiled child who believes that he is being neglected by his mother. His rambling trailed away when the master of the house laid his utensils across his plate, folded his hands, and turned his searing gaze to Lao, who was absently feeding Ran Mao forkfuls of rice and curry. It took several moments before he realized that he was being severely judged by a single blue eye.

"Are we ready to speak of business, my lord?" he questioned, smirking and dabbing the woman's lips lightly with a napkin before shooing her from his lap. Turning to face the Earl, he entwined his fingers before setting his hands on the table, sitting in silence.

"Well?" Ciel interrogated, "What information do you have regarding this case? Being so deeply involved in the underground, I assume that you know what has been going on."

"Hmmm?" the man questioned. "Oh! Yes, I remember. I was just going to tell you that I know nothing, but I'm sure that Undertaker does!"

The young lord could feel his blood heating and beginning to throb in his temple. Flustered and exhausted, Ciel stood, roughly shoving back his chair, slamming his palms flat on the table top, and inhaling deeply. "OUT! Get out!" he huffed angrily, "Sebastian!"

The butler quickly appeared at his master's side. "Bocchan?"

"We're going out to see Undertaker."

"At such a late hour, sir?"

His question earned a violent glare from the boy beside him. "Yes, we're going. I can't believe that I'm forced to seek refuge from my own home. This is ridiculous." Turning on his heel, he stormed out of the dining room, throwing the doors open forcefully.

Sebastian made a shallow bow, before turning to the remaining group at the table and Agni. "Excuse us. Agni, can I entrust the remainder of dinner to you?" The white-haired Indian nodded and bowed lightly. The Phantomhive butler moved his gaze to Lao and his companion, who were rising from their chairs and moving to the door.

"Aren't we going?" the Asian asked simply, Ran Mao clinging to his arm. Sebastian scarcely had time to retort before he heard his master's voice summoning him angrily from the front door.

"We're leaving Sebastian! Tell that fool Lao to go back to wherever he came from! And fetch Bardroy, he's coming with us!"

"Yes, bocchan," he said as he bowed, his deadly gaze never leaving Lao's as he excused himself from the room and rushed to do his master's bidding.


	3. Chapter 3

**Judith Chapter Three**

Bardroy sat in the coach, fingers fidgeting endlessly with the seams of the navy velvet seat and with the buttons that pulled the surface into tight tufts. The blond glanced towards his master, who was seated directly across from him, staring mindlessly out of the carriage window into the darkened streets of London. The elder male could not help but wonder about the young Earl Phantomhive at times; he was so proud, he feared not but expected to be feared, he held wisdom and power far beyond his years, and he performed his duties with frightening efficiency. Though he was a boy of only thirteen, it was in moments like this, when the young lord seemed lost in thought, that he seemed simultaneously older and younger. Ciel's features seemed youthful again, his usual scowl had dissolved away, revealing a handsome face and delicate skin like porcelain. Despite this, the boy was surrounded by an aura of exhaustion, and he always seemed burdened with something far too heavy for someone so young.

Bard watched his master, whose uncovered blue eye blinked heavily as he sighed, allowing his lids to close as lush upper lashes knit together with the lower. The blond chef desperately wanted to reach his large rough hand towards his master's small frame, to brush away the dark hair that was falling into his face, to see if he was actually warm. He was a beautiful boy in the eyes of so many, but to his servants, he was far more precious and lovely than anything they knew. Everyone in the Phantomhive household was shackled to some sort of tragic past, the young lord included, and because of this they were able to understand each other's struggles without uttering a word, each member acting as a column of support. Yet the young Earl seemed to be a pillar of solitude; though he seemed silent and strong in the eyes of most, those whom he kept close could see the cracks spreading like spider webs through the pillar's base. None of them knew what they would do if that column came crashing to the ground, but they did know that they would risk anything to keep that pillar aloft.

He hadn't noticed that his hand had closed the gap between himself and his young master, his broad fingers lightly tracing the lapels of the boy's finely tailored overcoat. The Earl was warm, the heat of his small body deceiving his icy composure. Bard carefully pressed his palm against the lord's chest, his hand rising and falling with each breath, pulses of warmth surging into his fingertips with each beating of the boy's heart. The blond sat this way for several moments, savoring the contact, the intimate silence pleasant and precious. The moment was quickly severed when the coach bumped on a loose cobble, Bard's ears suddenly filled with the hollow clop of heavy horseshoes on worn stones as he jerked his hand back to his lap, a dusting of pink blooming across his cheeks.

Ciel started to stir as the coach began to slow, blinking sleepily as he forced himself awake, taking in his surroundings. He lightly touched his chest where a large patch of pleasant warmth was radiating through the area over his heart, an oddly satisfying and comforting pressure lingering there. The young lord glanced towards the blond sitting across from him, whose gaze was latched firmly on the Earl's fingers, which were sill resting lightly over his heart. Looking away quickly, Bard attempted to hide his blushing face from his master, who was now scrutinizing the chef's behavior with quizzical suspiciousness. Sebastian appeared and clicked the carriage door open as the boy was about to speak, elder male sighing with relief as the young lord's interrogation was temporarily postponed. Still eyeing the chef warily, Ciel stepped down from the coach, straightening his pristinely tailored clothes before returning his top hat to his crown, and began to stride towards the door of their destination.

Bard lowered his head, trying his best to step gracefully onto the cobbled road from the fine carriage, and found it to be significantly more difficult than the Earl made it look, as the rugged blond was not accustomed to such finery. Once managing to plant both heavy boots on solid ground, he promptly began to survey his surroundings. Before him was a storefront, eerily coated in monotone greys, a heavy black door set with solid iron fittings, and a large sign reading "Undertaker" perched precariously above the entrance. He scarcely heard Sebastian speak to the young master about paying a 'toll' before entering the store unaccompanied, leaving Ciel and Bard alone in the dimly lit street, the scent of impending rain filling the air.

"Toll? Where in the bloody hell are...?" Bard's voice fizzled away as shadowy movement in the alley to his left captured his attention. His instincts peaked aggressively as he moved to his master's side, his body seeming to grow as his form cast a protective shadow over the boy. The dark figure peeked warily around the corner before retreating in a flurry of skirts and long brown hair. "Oi!" he shouted after the mystery woman, "Oi, miss! Come back!" He began to take large steps in pursuit, but froze as raucous laughter rattled the door of the shop, the sign above nearly dislodging itself from its loose fastenings. The laughter began to fade into a cacophony of cackles, snorts, and giddy sighs as Sebastian opened the shop door with a smirk, beckoning the two to come inside.

The young Earl strode boldly through the open door, Bard cautiously trailing behind his master and he peeked his head into the doorway. The interior was as equally monotone as the exterior, filled with coffins of varying styles and sizes layered with fine dust, and an eerie collection of anatomical models. In the center of the room, sprawled awkwardly across the lid of a glossy black casket, laid a man clad entirely in black with long silver hair that concealed his eyes and spilled over the coffin and onto the floor. He huffed between dwindling cackles, an unsettling smile pasted broadly across his face as he reached into an urn to remove a bone-shaped cookie before popping it mindlessly onto his mouth. Brushing crumbs from his face and clothes, he slithered from the coffin lid before standing and shuffling to the Earl's side, his lengthy sleeves flopping loosely over his concealed hands as he assessed the boy. The man leaned in closely, nearly pressing his cheek against Ciel's as he spoke.

"Taking good care of your soul, Earl? You look mighty tired nowadays, should I ready a casket for you? It'll be quite comfortable. I sleep very well in mine."

He cackled lightly as Ciel pushed him away, the boy's irritation only fodder for the man's amusement. "You know I'm here on business, Undertaker. I understand that…." His voice evaporated into silent frustration as he attempted to recapture the silver-haired man's attention, who was now circling Bard, assessing him intently as he continued to munch on the cookies that he produced from the urn.

"Hmm," he mumbled to himself, "he's a pretty one, eh?" Undertaker chuckled again, his proximity to the blond making the Phantomhive servant squirm uncomfortably, leaning his body away from the mysterious man. Looking to his master, Bard silently plead for rescue. Almost instantly, the figure in black had returned to the young lord's side, leaning in close and whispering to the boy, "Still not as pretty as the Earl, though. I'll set you up nice one day, it'll be a proper funeral indeed." His grin widened drastically as Ciel scoffed and pushed the man away yet again.

"Business," the boy stated firmly.

Undertaker sighed. "Yes, but first tea." He disappeared for a few minutes before returning with several beakers full of steaming tea and proceeded to hand them to his company. As per routine, the young Earl accepted the beverage before placing it aside, opting to refrain from taking his chances on consuming anything offered by the shop's proprietor. Sebastian silently followed his master's actions, glaring at the beaker with disdain, while Bard held the warm glass warily between his palms, assessing it with uncertainty.

"Oi, Mister Sebastian," the blond whispered urgently. The butler made no reply, save the quizzical arching of a dark eyebrow. "Does it look safe to you? I got a funny feelin' that it's not." Sebastian maintained his stoic silence as he turned to the man seated beside him, calmly removed the beaker from Bard's grasp, and set it on a casket to his left, sliding the sorry excuse for tea as far away from his person as he could without standing. His smug gaze returned to meet the blond's, who instantaneously understood, sighing as if he had narrowly missed meeting his demise. "S'pose it's not then."

Undertaker settled himself into a seat behind a large desk, which, aside from a few tables, appeared to be the only furniture constructed for use by the living. Setting his elbows on the desktop, he wove his fingers together and tilted his head slightly to one side, grinning as he assessed the young lord from beneath shaggy bangs. "Is the Queen's dog on the scent of the murderer? The one who likes to remove the heads?" he slid his finger across his jugular, smiling at the grimace the action induced from Bard. "I've been getting the victims in for a few days now, there's been four so far. Most interesting indeed. Someone did a messy job for sure. And it took me quite a while to put them back together since they all looked alike, but I do enjoy a challenge," he cackled happily. Ciel and Sebastian sighed simultaneously, while Bard shifted uneasily in his seat, assessing the dim room as if the killer would materialize from somewhere in the shadows. "Hmm. Whomever removed the heads must've had a difficult time with it, it seemed to take a few tries to get through the spine. A most unpleasant way to die, indeed."

"So the decapitation was the cause of death?"

"Yes, little earl, so it seems. But there was quite a bit of alcohol in their systems when they met their makers, so at least they were drunk first. A nice Cabernet I'd say," Undertaker laughed heartily at his own perverted quip.

Bard muttered breathily, "I wouldn't mind a drink after this. This long-haired loon is makin' me real uneasy." He started when he glanced up, finding that Undertaker had turned his attention towards him, a grin stretching across his porcelain features. And though the man's piercing eyes were concealed, the blond could sense that he was being studied intensely from behind that silver fringe.

"Say, do you like Cabernet?"

"What?" Bard stuttered, his eyes widening at the question.

Ciel interjected himself into the exchange angrily, "Dammit, Undertaker! We're talking about a case, or have you already forgotten?" Despite the fact that he detested working with the silver-haired man, the young lord knew that it was vital to exploit all of his resources from the underground if he was going to properly and hastily fulfill the Queen's wishes.

Undertaker waved a sleeved hand at the boy before continuing, unsuccessfully stifling yet more laughter. "Yes, yes, now. Ha, let's see. What else would be helpful for the little earl to know?" he sang to himself, leaning back in his chair as if in thought, tapping a slender black-tipped finger against his chin. "Mhm. Yep, that's it," he said after a moment, "that's all I have for you. But I'm sure Scotland Yard will be cleaning up a mess in the morning, so the little lord will probably want to go snoop and sniff like a good dog."

Ciel grit his teeth as Undertaker cackled cheerfully, his small, gloved hands curling into trembling fists. H scoffed, his irritation becoming far too apparent for his own liking as he turned to his butler, "Sebastian, we're leaving. Now."

"Yes, of course, bocchan."

The boy stood, adjusted his garments, and turned to leave, his navy overcoat fluttering behind him gracefully. Sebastian silently ushered his master out the door, pausing momentarily to glance over his shoulder, "Come along, Bardroy." The blond scrambled from his seat, hastily pursuing his master in attempt to reduce his proximity to the bizarre shop proprietor, who was still smiling in his chair, elbows resting on the desktop. Bard was just able to see the man waving as the front door slammed shut, confirming their escape from the morbid parlor. Settling once again into to carriage opposite his master, the blond let his head fall back as he sighed, sounding as if he was releasing a breath that he had been holding for an incredibly long time. He looked up at the sound of Ciel's amused chuckle, which scarcely reached his ears over the rhythmic clops of horseshoes on cobblestones.

"Young master? Why did you bring me here?"

Ciel's normally stoic face was graced by a soft smile, and while his face momentarily looked like that of a child's, his eyes continued to foster a sinister gleam. He chuckled again in response, then simply turned his gaze out of the window and leaned his head against the back of the seat, thin strands of dark hair falling across his face. Disappointed and uneasy, Bard placed his hands in his lap, his mind repeatedly analyzing the conversation in the shop, wondering why he would possibly need to become involved in his master's work. Arriving at nothing but horrifying and utterly ridiculous conclusions, he attempted to shake the thoughts from his head, opting to trust his master's judgment and follow his orders like the soldier he once was. An indistinguishable murmur aroused his attention, pulling him from his contemplations. Glancing up, he sighed when his eyes fell on the boy across from him, who had managed to doze off yet again.

The blond sighed heavily, "He always looks so tired." The servants all knew that they could easily protect their master's body, and they'd do so without a single regard for themselves, but Sebastian was the only one who truly knew the boy. Everyone in the manor had been woken by the young master's nightmares in the past, by the tortured screams that would echo clearly through the manor, yet they could do nothing. The dark butler would arrive at the master's side and calm him, for he was the only one who knew of the things that tormented the boy's thoughts, and so was the only one who knew how to combat them. It wasn't like when Finny would crawl into Bard's bed, shaking and teary from the remnants of a haunting dream, since the man knew by now how to hold him tightly, how to quiet the boy until he sank back into sleep wrapped in his arms. Yet it was different for the young master. The servants may have been intensely devoted to the boy, but in so many ways he was still out of reach, an inaccessible figure that remained distant and shrouded in mystery.

Bard desired to reach out, to once again lightly touch his master as he slept, to remind himself that, despite the boy's pride and stern countenance, he was only a child. A child whose body was still warm with youth, though his childhood had been cruelly stolen from him long ago, leaving him cracked, but never broken. While the blond did not exactly know what had transpired to force the young master to become this way, he knew that few could ever aspire to become as strong as the boy before him, or those who served diligently at his side. There were many tales of woe within the Phantomhive household, many memories and scars that were too persistent to be forgotten, yet they were being slowly washed away in the flow of their new lives. All of the servants knew that it would be impossible to leave their pasts behind, but at least now they no longer had to bear their burdens alone.

The dark haired young master shifted slightly, his rhythmic breaths interrupted momentarily by a heavy sigh. Bard couldn't help but smile gently, it was rare to see the boy looking so peaceful, especially given the amount of chaos to which his household was so accustomed. He was disappointed as the carriage began to slow, signaling their arrival at the manor, but reluctantly stepped down from the coach, electing not to disturb his master's sleep. Sebastian came quietly to Bard's side, releasing an exasperated sigh as he carefully lifted Ciel from his seat, carrying the boy lightly up the stairs to his suite and preparing him for bed.

The blond mindlessly ran his fingers through the black manes of the carriage horses, hands sliding smoothly over slick ebony coats lightly dampened with sweet sweat. Though Bard was still unsure as to what role his master was expecting him to play in his upcoming game, he decided that no matter the cause, he would wholeheartedly concede to his master's demands. He had sworn everything to that boy, and therefore would gratefully be his pawn.


	4. Chapter 4

"Where did you go? Why did you go? What did you do? Was riding in the young master's carriage nice? I bet it was great. Was it about the young master's work? Did you meet anyone?"

"Bloody hell, Finny, give me a minute!" Bard leaned against the kitchen wall, striking a match on the sole of his heavy boot, lighting a cigarette, promptly extinguishing the small flame, and taking a long, needy pull from the sweet tobacco. Gathering his thoughts, he attempted to answer the torrent if questions posed by the young gardener. "Well… the young master never told me why I had to go along, and he was so quiet it was making me nervous. He barely said a word the whole way there."

"Where'd you go?!"

"Finny! I'm gettin' to that part!" he huffed, becoming increasingly more annoyed by the youthful blond. "Like I was sayin', we got outta the coach and there was this undertaker's shop. I dunno if I was just nervous or what, but I swear I saw a woman in the alley, all hidden in the shadows. It was mighty weird. The whole thing was givin' me the creeps," he shuddered violently, as if trying to shrug off a chill.

Mey Rin, Snake, and Finny were now hunched anxiously in the kitchen chairs where they sat, their elbows in the tabletop and chins held in their hands, much like children telling ghost stories around a campfire. They patiently waited for the chef to continue his story, eyes wide in anticipation when Mey Rin blurted out, "I do love a good ghost story, I do! Go on Bardo, keep tellin'!"

He scoffed loudly at her exclamation, "This ain't a ghost story, ya know! It actually happened, and there weren't no spirits or vampires or witches. Nothin'!" He dramatically crossed his arms over his broad chest in defiance as Tanaka interjected an enthusiastic "Ho!"

"The guy that owned the place was real weird, he was a creepy bastard if I've ever met one. His hair was silver and real long so it hung down his back but he shaggy bangs that covered his eyes so ya could never tell what he was thinkin'," he paused to catch his breath. "He wore all black and wore a funny too hat. And his fingernails were black too. That place was all dusty on the inside and there was nothin' but coffins everywhere. Then he tried to give us tea in these sciencey beaker things, which made Mister Sebastian real upset. Plus he talked funny and had this laugh that gave me the shivers."

"This story's not creepy at all! It's sure not!" Mey Rin huffed angrily, plastering her face with a dramatic pout and scrunching her nose to keep her bottle-bottom glasses from falling off her face.

"I don't think this is scary either… says Goethe," Snake contributed with his trademark monotone voice. Bard sighed in irritation, rubbing his temples in exasperation.

"Meeting Undertaker is always interesting," an unfamiliar voice chimed from the pantry, causing the entire group to start, turning wide-eyed to the direction of the disembodied voice. Emerging eerily from the shadows was a tall, slender Asian man with a permanent, sly grin gracing his features, a busty woman in scant silk trailing on his heels. He casually walked over to the table, unceremoniously depositing the armfuls of food that he had retrieved, apparently not satisfied by the evening's meal. Rummaging through the pile and plucking out half of a baguette, a bunch of grapes, and a wheel of brie, which he generously slathered across the bread before popping it into his mouth. Waving his hand, he mumbled for Bard to continue with his story through mouthfuls of commandeered groceries.

Bard was scarcely able to resume his tale before he was interrupted by a familiar, silky voice. "Bardroy. I'm sure the others don't want to be lectured about the young master's work, hmm?" He smiled broadly, the gleam in his eyes as equally deadly as the menacing tone of his voice. "It's only business," he flashed the grin once more, reinforcing his unspoken threat. "Ah, and Mister Lao, I'm not sure that the young lord would approve of your continued presence in his home. Let alone your raid on our pantry and thievery of our produce. Now if you would be so kind…" Sebastian gestured broadly towards the door, his smile and presence remaining that of an exemplary butler, despite the blatant rudeness of his words.

Lao shooed Ran Mao from his lap and rose from the seat that he had occupied between Snake and Finny, who were still staring at the man with poorly concealed suspicion. He waved his hand at the butler in black, his silken sleeve flapping around his thin wrist as he smiled and turned to leave. After taking a few steps towards the door he froze and returned to the table, deciding to retrieve the bounty he had stolen from the pantry before scurrying out of the kitchen and into the night, his silent courtesan in tow. Sebastian sighed and gritted his teeth, silently cursing every one of the fools that his master was, most regrettably, forced to interact with for his work. The network in the London underground, Sebastian had long ago decided, consisted entirely of idiots and freaks, who all seemed to be lacking any sense of decency and propriety. Consequentially, he found it to be exceptionally easy to despise every one of them.

The servants fidgeted in silence, hoping that none of Sebastian's frustration would fall upon them for gossiping about the evening's events. Finny rolled a stray green grape between the tabletop and his index finger, absently staring at the place where the copious pile of groceries that Lao had snatched had been. Mey Rin and Snake watched Finny's pitifully pointless form of self-entertainment, Goethe winding himself around his companion's neck and disappearing into the silent boy's tailcoat. Bard continued to lean against the wall, staring at the opposite side of the kitchen blankly and dragging from his cigarette, which had been converted almost entirely into ash. Noticing the servants' poorly concealed dejection, the butler sighed heavily, rubbing his temples. Finally he spoke, "The young master had demanded to leave before dessert was served and had fallen asleep before we made it back to the manor. If I allow you all to have the lemon crème tart that I had prepared, will you please stop pouting?"

The mood in the kitchen immediately brightened, as if someone had lit a lamp. "You really mean it, Mister Sebastian?" Finny piped, scarcely able to conceal his excitement. Sebastian merely nodded in response.

"So nice today, Mister Sebastian is! Thank you muchly!"

"Yes, yes," the butler sighed, before straightening his posture and seeming to grow in size, his aura darkening with silent warning. "However," he smiled, "you will all do well to remember this and remain on your best behavior. Am I understood? Now, I must attend to the young master, he is quite restless this evening. When I return, there should not be so much as a single crumb dirtying this kitchen." Sebastian smiled again and turned to leave as Mey Rin jumped enthusiastically from her seat in order to fetch plates, knocking over a chair in her rush. She froze as a sideways glare was cast over the butler's shoulder and burned into her face, which rapidly turned red with embarrassed fear. Her lips refused to allow her to form a coherent apology as his back strode through the door and into the darkened hall.

"Mey Rin, you should be more careful."

Tanaka interjected a sympathetic "Ho."

"Bardo, I just got excited, I did," she retorted in self-defense, her violent blush still painting her cheeks in burning color, "I didn't mean to."

Placing plates and silverware on the worn tabletop, she sliced into the pie which Finny had retrieved from the pantry, who was nearly drooling in anticipation. He happily offered a plate in Bard's direction, his broad smile falling as the blond chef pushed himself away from the wall and walked silently in the direction of the door.

"Bardo? Don't you want some pie?" Finny questioned, his voice laced with concern. The man made no reply and continued to make his way back to his room.

"But the pie's so pretty, it is!"

"Don't you want a slice…? says Goethe."

"You all eat it, I'm goin' to bed," he replied flatly. Finny began to retort, but his words were promptly silenced by Bard's low voice and serious tone. "I said I'm going to bed," the blond stated firmly, pushing through the kitchen door and disappearing into the hallway.

He was laying on his bed, hands folded behind his head as Finny came quietly into the room, only the creaking of the door's ancient hinges betraying his presence. Bard scarcely glanced at the boy as he laid down next to the elder blond on the small mattress, snuggling into his burly warmth. They both sighed heavily in perfect unison as Bard freed one of his hands, looping a strong arm around the boy, pulling him close and nuzzling his face into the golden hair.

"I'm sorry, Finny."

The boy merely hummed in response, nodding and pressing himself closer to the man as he gave silent forgiveness.

"I'm just confused, ya know? What with the young master dragging me along and not tellin' me why. I just got a feelin' that something is gonna happen, but I don't know what to do about it if I don't know what it is."

"Don't worry, Bardo," Finny said softly with a sleepy grin on his face, "the young master and I will take care of you, so it'll all be okay."

"I'm pretty sure it's supposed to be the other way around, idiot," he murmured, his voice laced with tender amusement. Seeing that the boy beside him had already fallen into a restful sleep, Bard laughed quietly, smiling as he inhaled deeply. It was only appropriate that the blond gardener smell of flowers, of gardenias, and the scent was always so innocent and refreshing, like dewy sprouts of grass in early April. His mind began to wander again, restless and uncertain thoughts floating to the surface, but he quickly dismissed them. Despite his anxiety, he knew that it was his duty to be of service to his master and to protect the people around him with unwavering devotion. So he allowed himself to forget the worries that plagued him, choosing instead to place his faith in his master, in Sebastian, in Finny and Snake and Mey Rin, in his own instinct. None of these had betrayed him thus far, and he could feel, deep in the recesses of his heart, that they never would.


	5. Chapter 5

**Judith: Chapter Five**

**Be advised, there is a bit of gore in this chapter, as our young protagonist and his faithful butler are visiting a crime scene! It is quite mild, so most of you should be able to handle it easily.**

"Good morning, bocchan. It's time to wake up."

The butler drew back the curtains, allowing warm morning light to cascade across the bedroom, painting crisp white linens with a soft yellow glow. The dark-haired boy attempted to sink deeper into the piles of quilts and sheets woven from fine Egyptian cotton, hoping to avoid his responsibilities for a few precious moments longer. He reluctantly blinked open his eyes as Sebastian's lithe gloved hands gently tugged the sheets from the boy's fingers, the demon's dark crimson eyes met by Ciel's blue ones, the right marred by the symbol of their contract.

"This morning's tea is an Irish breakfast blend with milk," the butler stated, coaxing a cup and saucer into the grasp of his young master, who was still struggling to rouse himself from the comfort of sleep. Ciel merely nodded, accepting the beverage and sipping it quietly, scarcely acknowledging Sebastian's presence, who was now browsing through the young master's wardrobe selecting the outfit of the day. "You caused quite a stir among the servants last night, young master," he said, briefly glancing over his shoulder to the young boy sitting in the bed, who only hummed in response, absently taking a swallow from china cup in his hand. The butler sighed, "My young lord, I believe that you should inform Bardroy of his involvement in this case. He seems to be a bit on edge at the moment."

"Certainly not," the boy replied flatly, placing the empty teacup on the mahogany nightstand to his left and swinging his legs over the edge of the plush mattress. "I want him to act naturally. If he is acting out of sorts, then he may not be able to wholly perform his role."

Sebastian turned to face his master with a questioning look, "Role? You are intending to us him as bait, are you not?"

Ciel simply returned the inquisition with a lopsided smirk, his eyes glinting with devious intent. He stood silently, raising his arms as the butler began to dress him for the day, outfitting the boy in a fine linen shirt bound by a navy ribbon around the collar, with trousers and coat of pale and navy blue herringbone twill. The boy brushed down his jacket front and flattened his lapels as Sebastian laced up his boots and tied the strings of his eye-patch into an elegant bow with nimble fingers. Sighing and straightening his posture, the young earl turned and began to stride towards the bedroom door and into the hall, calling over his shoulder to his servant, "Come now, Sebastian. We have many things to do today and I don't intend to let you slow me down."

"Of course, my young lord," he responded, placing his gloved hand over his heart in a shallow bow before striding after his master.

…

…

The young earl sat alone in the coach, tapping his small fingers on his knee in irritation, the movement so rhythmic and persistent that the flesh under assault began to become somewhat numb. His scowl shot violently towards the door as the latch clicked quietly, opening to reveal Sebastian, who was bowing apologetically towards his master. "Forgive me, bocchan," the butler said smoothly, gracefully climbing into the coach and settling in across from Ciel, "I had a bit of an issue to attend to among the servants."

The boy scoffed, turning to gaze out of the carriage window with generously applied indifference and blatantly ignoring the man in front of him. "We have a crime scene to look over," Ciel said distantly, "Undertaker was right. I want to speak to Scotland Yard about potential murder weapons, those fools might be helpful for a change. Afterwards, I want you to take the criteria I give you and form a suspect list, then go out and perform interrogations. Understood?"

"Perfectly, young master," Sebastian nodded. "I must say, bocchan, something in all of this seems quite familiar, as if I have seen it in my past. Quite peculiar, I must say. Drunken male victims who lose their heads. Heads which are later found in baskets. Familiar indeed." His voice trailed off, his brows knitted together as if lost in intense reminiscence.

Ciel stared at him with his uncovered blue eye, his interest momentarily piqued by his butler's potential insight. Scoffing, he turned once again to gaze out of the carriage window at the sensory blur of colors and sounds that blended together wildly, each individual element identifiable for a mere instant. Much like his investigations, he mused, resting his chin on a gloved fist. Presented with a flurrying cacophony of information, he was charged with determining which of those momentary clarities was the truth, and such tasks required a critical mind and discerning eye. The young Earl Phantomhive possessed these traits, but his expertise in his field did not imply that he was above using other resources so as to finish his work quickly and efficiently. He was, above all else, remarkably resourceful, whether to the benefit or detriment of those around him.

The arrival of the carriage at their destination was signaled by the jerky halt of the horses as their shod hooves slipped on the worn cobblestones beneath them, snorting and sighing with exertion. Ciel stepped down into the street, his presence parting the throng of curious onlookers as he strode confidently past members of Scotland Yard and up to the front door of the inn before him, faithful butler on his heels. "The Paint and Pen Inn, is it?" the boy muttered to himself, glancing up at the sign above the door before shouldering his way between the two officers guarding the entrance, "a silly name for an inn." Sebastian nodded curtly towards the two guardsmen, who appeared to be struggling to comprehend why a young boy had just forced his way past them into a crime scene, and was now speaking casually to police commissioner Randall.

"Phantomhive, I do not take kindly to you imposing upon my investigations, now if you'd go, you can…." the man was saying angrily, his amber moustache bristling over pursed lips. He was promptly interrupted by the shoving of a letter into his face, the boy in possession of it smirking plainly as he waved the royal wax seal before the man's eyes. Sebastian could practically hear the commissioner's teeth grinding as he erected his posture, determined to maintain his pride even in defeat as he defiantly shooed the boy towards the stairs. The young earl's smug expression seemed to etch more firmly across his pale features as he turned to proceed up the stairs, waving to a fuming Randall over his narrow shoulders.

"Good man, commissioner," he said, voice condescending and bitter satisfaction clearly audible. "The Yard seems as futile as ever, keep up the good work." Ciel smirked proudly at his insult as he strutted down the hall, rugged wooden floorboards creaking dramatically under his small feet as he halted abruptly before a doorway marked "13", which was obstructed by a familiar personage.

"Thirteen, eh? Ironic, I'd say," the figure chuckled, unrestrained amusement floating from beneath silver fringe and a crooked top hat as the man lounged against the door frame. "Wouldn't you agree, little earl?"

"Damn it all!" the boy shouted, huffing heavily and startling the officers who had been eyeing the pair curiously. "Undertaker, why are you here?!"

A devious grin unzipped across the man's partially concealed face as he cackled, waving a sleeved hand at the boy as he tilted his head slightly. "I am an undertaker, after all," he said, the obviousness of the statement adding to his own amusement immensely, "so the boys at the Yard called me down to clean this up." Finishing the sentence with unsettling cheeriness, he patted the shoulder of a random officer as he walked passed the group, startling the man, who yelped and bolted down the hall. Undertaker cackled lowly, humming his contentment as he spoke, "Plus, this inn is a place of business. Having bodies lying 'round isn't good for income, now is it?"

Ciel and Sebastian rolled their eyes in perfect synchronization, far too accustomed to the man's bizarre words and mannerisms to feel uneasy from his speech. The young lord sighed heavily as he forced his way into the room, idly swatting away Undertaker's hand as he reached out to teasingly touch the boy's cheek. The silver-haired man chuckled, his laughter growing louder as he casually absorbed the glare that Sebastian so aggressively sent in his direction. "So little lord," he began in a raspy laugh, hidden eyes soaking in the bloody crime scene sprawled wildly across the room, "what do you make of this violence?"

The boy cringed slightly at the sight, producing a handkerchief from an interior coat pocket and covering his mouth before stepping cautiously around the room to assess the damage. The sheets of the bed were tousled violently, and wound themselves partially around the incomplete body of a shirtless man, whose head was conspicuously missing. A burgundy puddle of blood was pooling on the floor beneath him, the edges of the mere growing dark and thick as they congealed, the way the shores of a pond were the first to ice on a freezing day. Broken glasses and an empty bottle indicted a similar spill of heady red wine that collided with the borders of the man's blood, blending together in a swirl of mirrored colors in different densities. Surveying the scene more intently, the young earl searched for any sign of a murder weapon or any other clues, but came to find nothing. Sighing, he turned to face the two men in black who had been standing behind him; the butler, who wore his standard stoic expression with a twinge of disgust, and Undertaker, who looked far too pleased to be present.

Undertaker sauntered over to the body, gesturing at the severed neck enthusiastically, remarking on the poor quality of the cut marks. "It looks like someone had a rather difficult time of removing the head, like it was the work of someone with limited strength. A small-framed woman maybe," he sang, laughing to himself. "But what she lacked in physical strength, she certainly made up for with determination."

Sebastian broke his lengthy silence, placing a gloved index finger on his pale lip in thought. "What do you believe the murder weapon to be?" he inquired, casting a sideways glance in the direction of the silver-haired man, who tilted his head, contemplating the question.

"Hmm, a large blade of some sort."

Ciel glanced up from carefully scrutinizing the corpse. "Large blade?"

"Yes. Something like a sword, but likely not as long. It was probably heavy though. There are marks on the floor from where the point gouged into the wood after the head was removed," Undertaker chimed, creeping up behind the young earl, who was attempting to analyze the slices in the floor. "See?" he said, gesturing as he trailed a black-tipped finger along Ciel's cheek teasingly, causing the boy to shiver violently and squirm free of the contact. The silver-haired man cackled in satisfaction, earning a fiery glare from Sebastian, who was still standing quietly in the doorway.

"It's as I thought," the butler muttered quietly, brushing glossy black hair away from his auburn eyes with a lithe hand. "Judith."

"Judith?" Ciel asked. Undertaker tilted his head again, humming questioningly as his signature grin was replaced by an expression of confusion, his concealed eyebrows knitted together tightly.

"Yes," Sebastian replied flatly, folding his arms across his chest, "the Biblical story of Judith and Holofernes."

"A demon making references to Bible stories? That's rich!" the boy laughed heartily, tossing back his head in amusement. His butler retorted with an aggressive glare and an exasperated sigh.

"Back in the early 1600s I was bound to a young painter in Italy, one who was associated with a Master Gentileschi, father of the famed Baroque artist Artemisia Gentileschi. I watched her create a number of her finest works as a young artist, and she was especially obsessed with the story of Judith beheading Holofernes."

"Ah yes, Artemisia," Undertaker grinned, seeming to reminisce.

"What does this story have to do with anything, Sebastian?" Ciel spat, his patience beginning to wear very thin.

"Now, now, young master," Sebastian taunted, grinning. "It's all about powerful, wily women and revenge."

"Revenge, huh? There's our motive."

"Yes, it appears so. Anyway, in the tale, Judith is robbed of her home, freedom, and husband by Holofernes when he invades and conquers Jerusalem, burning the city to the ground and enslaving its residents. To exact her revenge, Judith seduces the man and tempts him with sex and copious red wine, then when he is drunk, she beheads him, placing his head in a basket and stealing away into the night, thereby regaining the land and power that her people had lost by his hand."

"Ouch," Undertaker laughed happily, earning another set of synchronized sighs and shrugs from both Sebastian and his young master.

"We can gather that these killings are being performed by a vengeful woman, who is specifically targeting men in their middle twenties with blond hair and blue eyes. But why?" the dark-haired boy paused, uncovered blue eye narrowing in thought. "No matter, I'm sure we can lure her out at the fair tomorrow using Bardroy. Sebastian," he said shortly.

"Yes, bocchan?"

"She should be prowling at night, looking for her next kill, and a city park full of potential victims should be nearly irresistible. Find our murderer and apprehend her, that's an order! But ensure that no serious harm befalls my servant, understood?"

The butler knelt, lowering his head and placing a gloved hand over his heart as his eyes flashed a demonic red, confirming the order as the pair's contractual seals throbbed at the connection. Ciel nodded in confirmation, beckoning for Sebastian to follow as he turned to leave the room, strutting confidently down the hall, shuffling quickly to the bottom of the staircase, and walking out the front door into the busy street. "My young lord," the demon began, his long strides easily overtaking his master as he reached for the carriage door.

"What is it, Sebastian?"

"How far should I allow things to go before stepping in?"

Ciel smiled mischievously, pausing as he climbed into the coach, glancing over his shoulder towards his butler with a dangerous gleam in his uncovered eye. "Judging from her apparent pattern, she should get him drunk on red wine, attempt to seduce him, have her way with him, and then cut off his head," he began, emitting a devious laugh and grinning broadly. "Just stop her before he dies."

Sebastian sighed, returning a dark, knowing smirk and giving a shallow bow before following his master into the carriage. "Understood. How considerate of you, sir."

...

Hey guys! I'm in the middle of exams at my university, so I'm sorry for making you wait for Chapter Six. I'm going to try to have the new chapter posted at some point this weekend.


	6. Chapter 6

**Judith: Chapter Six**

**Author's Note: I'm not really sure what happened, but the Chapter Six that I originally published was not the complete version. Here is the correct version of the chapter, and Chapter Seven will be posted either today or tomorrow. Sorry guys!**

The click of the door handle stirred the young earl Phantomhive from his reading, glancing over his shoulder as he snapped the book shut and traced his slender fingers over the gold print on the navy fabric cover. He shifted in his seat, the leather of the wing backed chair creaking as the boy uncrossed his legs, leaning forward to assess the tea tray that Sebastian placed delicately on the mahogany coffee table. Ciel watched as the butler poured the golden liquid into a fine china cup, adding a drizzle of honey.

"This evening I have prepared a Chinese silver leaf white tea and almond scones with cherry extract."

Ciel simply hummed in response as he picked up the saucer, the porcelain clinking delicately as he lifted the cup to his lips. "Sebastian, did you accomplish everything I asked of you today?"

"Naturally, bocchan," the butler replied, placing his hand over his heart and giving a shallow bow. "I have thoroughly interrogated everyone on the list that I compiled earlier this evening. There is one young lady in particular, a gypsy girl of seventeen years who has been recently expelled from an Anglican orphanage in south London. I was informed that the girl was orphaned at the age of seven when her mother and siblings were murdered by the sons of the landowner on whose property they were residing illegally."

The boy snorted. "I'm going to assume that the killers all possessed blonde hair and blue eyes."

"Indeed, my lord."

"Find her tomorrow. We must ensure that she comes in contact with Bardroy," the young earl said plainly, returning the empty teacup to the tray and exchanging it for a scone.

Sebastian gently removed the elegant tome from his master's lap, trailing his lithe, gloved fingers across the fabric of the book's cover, the spine crackling as it opened, the butler thumbing lightly through the crisp pages. "I see," he mumbled to himself, earning an inquisitive glance from Ciel. "This is the wordsmith's new volume, is it not? Arthur Conan Doyle's stories of crimes; the adventures of Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson. Quite fitting, my young lord." A smirk tweaked the corners of the demon's pale lips, his eyes narrowing slightly in amusement as he looked down at Ciel, who returned the gaze with an irritated glare before snatching the book from the butler's hands. The gold lettering on the cover glinted in the dim candlelight of the room as the boy tilted the volume, watching shades rise and fall dramatically across the title like the shadows of ghosts. Sighing, he set the novel gently on the side table to his right before rising from his seat and turning to Sebastian, who had been silently observing his master's pensive disposition for the last several moments. "Bocchan, are you troubled?" he asked sincerely, slight concern welling up in his stomach as he knitted his eyebrows together tightly.

"No," Ciel replied firmly, "I am simply ready to retire for the evening, as I am tired and tomorrow will be quite busy. I expect that you will be able to perform your duties effectively. It is of the utmost importance, Sebastian. I'm sure you understand that." The boy glanced towards the loyal butler, his uncovered eye dark with determined expectation.

Sebastian kneeled, lowering his head as he lightly pressed his palm to his chest, eyes momentarily flashing red. "Of course, bocchan. I will do as you command."

The young earl tilted his chin up slightly, looking down at his butler with a single piercing blue eye, assessing the kneeling demon carefully. "Hmm. Very well," he purred, turning to stride out of the room and into the dark hall. Sebastian smirked, rising to his feet and straightening his crisp lapels before following his young master towards the bedroom.

"Yes, bocchan."

Ciel scarcely waited for the butler as he twisted the crystal knob of his bedroom door, swinging the heavy mahogany inward as it creaked on bronze hinges and scraped lightly over the plush oriental carpet draped across oaken floors. The boy was exhausted, and though he had no inclination of exposing such weakness to anyone, he determined that the prospect of sleep, and therefore his weak attempt at undressing himself, might be worth Sebastian's mockery. He desperately wanted to shamelessly climb into his plush bed and wholeheartedly welcome the much needed rest. Whether or not the tempestuous depths of his unconscious mind and the torment of his dreams would allow him to sleep was an entirely different matter, and a distinct struggle in itself.

Pulling the ribbon lazily from around his collar and discarding it into a coiled puddle on the floor, the young earl shuffled towards the bed, eyes scarcely leaving his feet as he attempted to ignore the sensation of Sebastian's smirk landing on his back, between his narrow shoulder blades. Irritated, Ciel raised his head, intent on whipping a seething insult towards the demon, but froze as his gaze fell upon the man who was perched on the edge of his bed, long crimson hair cascading over narrow shoulders and pooling like blood on the white duvet. The man straightened his posture and crossed his legs, his luminescent eyes smiling as he hungrily assessed the butler in the doorway over red-rimmed glasses.

"Hello there, Bassy," he purred, easily ignoring Ciel's fierce glare and clenched teeth. The man glanced down to the boy with a sneer, a taunting smile lightly tugging at the corners of his thin lips. "Hello, brat."

"Dammit, Grell! Why are you here?! And more importantly, why the hell are you in my bedroom?!" the young earl seethed, the drastic rise of his temper causing his pulse to throb painfully in his temples.

Grell slid blithely from the mattress, his heeled boots clacking lightly on the floor and his long red coat fluttering behind him in delicate ripples before falling to sway around narrow hips and thighs. The shinigami skipped happily past a fuming Ciel, latching himself onto Sebastian's arm with painful enthusiasm and gazing up at the dark butler with lustful green eyes. He nearly climbed up the demon's arm in a futile attempt to steal a kiss, but was quickly denied by the harsh impact of a white gloved hand on his face. Sebastian and his young master rolled their eyes in perfect synchronization as Grell's retorts and ceaseless complaints were effectively muffled by the palm that was pressed into the lower half of his face with surprising aggression. Ciel couldn't help but smirk, and hardly attempted to subdue the low chuckle that escaped his lips and filled the nearly silent room. The butler glanced from the red shinigami to his young master and hung his head with an exasperated sigh, reluctantly releasing his hold on Grell's face, who began gasping for air with excessive theatrical flair. Sebastian assessed his gloved hand and was thoroughly disgusted with the dampness that had saturated the white fabric from the red-haired man's breath. Contorting his face into a repulsed grimace, he carefully removed the glove and dropped it unceremoniously on the floor, glaring at the crumpled fabric as if it was some sort of vile insect worthy of being stamped upon.

"So why exactly are you here, Grell?" the butler inquired with poorly executed feigned interest, "It can't be that you simply desire to disturb my master's evening routine."

"Oh no, darling Bassy," he sang, smiling broadly as he forcefully snuggled himself under Sebastian's arm, eliciting an irritated sigh from the butler's pale lips. "I came here to seduce you, of course," he said, giving the demon a suggestive wink as he gazed longingly over his red-rimmed glasses. Locking his intense, smoldering auburn gaze on the shinigami's luminescent eyes, Sebastian quietly raised a gloved index finger to his lips, gesturing for silence. Grell began to speak, but was promptly hushed by the placement of the gloved finger on his own lips, where it remained for merely an instant before relocating to his forehead, only to give him a violent shove that sent him sprawling across the rug. Attempting to recover and rubbing his harassed brow dramatically, the man in red scoffed loudly, spouting some nonsense about chivalry and blatant mistreatment of a lady.

"Lady?" Sebastian spat bitterly, "how disturbing."

Ciel sighed, stepping forward to intervene the foolishness that would no doubt continue if not promptly and effectively subdued. "That's enough. Now answer me. Why are you here, Grell?" his voice was low and dark, his presence suddenly heavy and commanding.

"Oh… well…." Grell stuttered, his previous raunchy confidence quickly fading at the hands of a thirteen year old boy with a sharp tongue. "There was something odd in the ledger that I thought might interest you both. There are two names that continue to flicker and alternate. Almost as if the record doesn't know which is to die, even though the time and date remains the same."

"It changes?" Sebastian questioned, his interest clearly piqued as he moved to the shinigami's side, glancing into the morbid tome now laying open in Grell's hands.

"What nonsense are you spouting, you fools?" Ciel folded his arms over his chest, his expression cross and devoid of amusement as he strode across the room, shoving the two out of his way as he glanced down to the exposed page. "This…." he began, eyes momentarily flaring with confusion before narrowing with suspicion and savage determination. "Sebastian," the boy spat, "this will not happen, am I understood? I'm making this an order."

The butler fell gracefully to one knee, lowering his head and lightly placing a lithe, gloved hand over his heart as his eyes flashed with demonic, glowing red. "Yes, bocchan. I will do as you command."

The young earl nodded curtly, never relaxing the rigid nobility of his posture as he turned to stride towards his dressing room, but paused momentarily to throw a burning glare over his shoulder. "Now that your business here has concluded, Grell, get out of my house. And I'll be damned if you impose your presence here with such familiarity again." The crimson shinigami seemed to whither slightly at the threat, "Otherwise Sebastian will be sent to deal with you in a manner bereft of delicacy."

Grell's eyes flashed with lusty excitement as he flung his arms around the dark butler once again, eliciting a disgusted shudder from the tall man trapped in his grasp. "That's okay, Bassy," he winked, making no attempt to contain the tempest of his advances, "I like it rough."

"How vulgar," Sebastian stated flatly.

"I can assure you, Grell," Ciel began, strongly emphasizing his name with disdainful warning, "that you will not enjoy it. Now, would you kindly leave?" The red-haired man pouted dramatically at the young earl's demand, clutching onto his unwilling prey with renewed vigor, eliciting a strained sigh from the boy before him. Ciel raised his gaze, burning with unrestrained ire and irritation, and locked it aggressively on the shinigami. "OUT!"


End file.
